Heir of Fire and Ice

Beltane

Elentiya was a little nervous about the upcoming celebration called Beltane. Not just because of the fires - hopefully she would be able to manage that. Though she had been there for various celebrations, this was the first time she was to be officially presented. Aelin had recently showed her how to use the fire to make jewelry, so she planned to try that. At least she wouldn't have to do much - not officially. She had been learning the dances around maypoles and the ones that were traditional, but not around maypoles, but that wasn't what worried her. What if she accidentally hurt someone?

At least her dress was lovely. She was being called (apparently) Heir of Fire and Ice, so the dress was pale blue - the colour of ice, with the fire jewelry. She also had droplets of ice in her braided hair. Her dress showed the scars on her arms, which she was part glad for, part scared about. What if her country did not approve? Anything could go wrong.

Yesterday, maypoles had been raised, and there was definitely a festive feel to the air. She was excited - of course she was - but it was the kind of excitement that is mixed with nerves and anxiety. At least she didn't have to do anything official yet - just be there. Even with her limited language, she could manage. 

An hour later, Elentiya was actually enjoying herself. She didn't feel obliged to do anything - she had danced a little, but preferred just watching. It sounded odd, but she loved watching them having fun. It reminded her of why it was better to be here than with Maeve. Everyone was really friendly, and Elentiya was disappointed to not be able to talk and communicate properly with them. The fires had, at first, worried her, but (As Aelin suggested) used her magic to, well... It was hard to explain, but it was almost like sensing them. She wasn't controlling them, but knew what they were doing.

Now, she found the fires quite beautiful, in an odd way. It was something to do with the way they moved, she supposed. Like dancing. The colours merging together in a way so simple and yet complex. She took comfort in them, let them warm her. Comfortable on the soft ground, she let herself drift of into nothingness...

Awakening, she found herself in the same spot, but everyone was gone. What had happened? She had fallen asleep, but had they left her? Pulling a twig from her hair, she stood, wincing at the pain in her muscles from sleeping on the ground. They wouldn't leave her... Would they? What if it was some elaborate trick of Maeve's? Wyrd, surely not. There had to be some more logical conclusion. Anyway, Maeve wouldn't want her to learn how to fight. No. It was something else. It had to be something else. If she just went back to the resplendent white palace, Orynth. It would all be fine.

No one was there. Not in the streets, not in the castle. Not a single person. Maybe something awful had happened to everyone. Yes - and she had been hidden, so had not been found. Maybe the little people had helped her, Or - gods, what if it was her? What if she had caused this? Maeve had been right. She was worthless, didn't deserve her name. She should have listened. Flinging herself onto the bed, she wept.